


Bait

by DinerGuy



Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-18
Updated: 2010-03-18
Packaged: 2017-11-16 02:50:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/534663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DinerGuy/pseuds/DinerGuy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a grudge-bearing figure from Sam's past comes calling, the team finds themselves in a desperate race to find one of their own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [frankie_mcstein](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankie_mcstein/gifts).



> Contains spoilers for "Legend: 1 & 2" - but I'm assuming most LA fans already know what happens in those. Heh, even the regular NCIS fans know about those! And spoilers for "Missing" as well.
> 
> Written for and betaed by frankie_mcstein.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS LA or any of the characters used here (with the exceptions of Garrison, Turner, and a few various others). Wish I did, but nope, this is just for fun with no profit involved. (Bummer.)

Sam crept towards the back of the house, making sure to stay below the sightline of the windows. Pulling up beside the door, he checked to make sure his gun was loaded. "You ready, Kensi?"

"Ready," she replied over the comm. unit.

"Okay, guys," Eric instructed. "Once you're in, it's pretty much a straight shot to the basement. It's through a door in the kitchen, to the right of the stove."

"All right," Sam acknowledged. "On my count. One …"

The agents tensed in anticipation.

"… Two …"

They reached for the door handles.

"… Three!"

At that, they threw them open, busting in with their weapons at the ready. Shouts of "Clear!" echoed through the stillness as they made their way from room to room.

Sam kept hoping Callen would hear their calls and let them know where he was, but there was nothing to be heard.

"Sam," Kensi's voice came through again, "you might want to see this."

The other agent came running. "What is it?"

In answer, Kensi pointed at the door. Various wires ran from both the frame and the door itself to a small device stuck to the middle of the door.

The digital face of the device read 00:01:49 and was steadily working downward.


	2. Chapter 1

Nearly twenty-two hours before Kensi and Sam began searching the house, G Callen had been caught off guard.

The last time that had happened, he had nearly been killed, and he had promised himself it would never happen again. After all, he had the skills to stay alert; his training as an undercover agent had honed his observational skills to near perfection.

But that night, as he exited headquarters, he didn't have his mind completely on his surroundings. He was thinking of Dom and desperately racking his brain for something they might have missed.

Thinking a jog might clear his brain a little, he set off down the street. Not many cars were out at this time of night, that place right between dusk and complete darkness. Most people had already made their way home from work, and the party scene was yet to get started.

The other agents were either back at headquarters or home for the day; therefore no one was around. Callen wasn't complaining. He loved his team, he really did. But he wasn't in the mood to be psycho-analyzed, coddled, or joked with. At the moment, all he needed was the chance to think through his jumbled brain without distraction.

He was so caught up in his thoughts, however, that he was effectively distracted from what was happening around him. It wasn't until the screech of tires sounded from his rear that he turned, but by that time, the man was already on him.

The hood was already coming through the air towards Callen's head. The agent rolled to the side as the man's hand came down on empty air.

Callen came up with his gun at the ready. No one attacked him without paying for it.

The next second, someone else hit him in the back of the head, bringing him to his knees. His gun was knocked from his grasp, flipping and spinning as it hit the concrete.

Where was Sam when he needed him?

Callen shook his head to clear it and scrambled to his feet. The two men spread out, and the three of them moved in a circle; the thugs trying to gain an opening and Callen determined not to give them one.

In the next few seconds, the tension rose so high you could feel it in the air. Forget Sam; he'd go for Kensi or Dom at this point.

One of the men finally made a move, rushing Callen with fists swinging.

Callen sidestepped the punch and grabbed the man's wrist, stopping his forward motion. Throwing all his weight in the opposite direction, Callen brought his knee up into the attacker's abdomen.

The man doubled over, and Callen aimed a blow at the back of neck, sending him groaning to the ground.

Before he could turn to the other, the thug was on him, plunging a needle into his arm. Callen jerked his arm away, but the plunger had already been depressed.

Panting, Callen turned on his opponent. He started to kick out, but his leg had barely left the ground when his head grew light. Hard as he tried to stay upright, he slumped to his knees.

Hetty might not even be a bad idea right about now.

As he fought against the cloud descending on him, one of the men yanked a hood over his head, and the darkness from the cloth over his face only added to his dizziness.

Even kneeling began to become too much. He was barely aware of someone grabbing his arms and dragging him across the asphalt, then everything faded to oblivion.

* * *

"Where's G?" Sam asked, entering the bullpen.

Kensi looked up from the file on her desk. "He's not on the couch?"

"At this time of the morning?" Sam crossed his arms. "And, no, he's not. I already checked."

"Ah," Kensi nodded slowly. "Well, in that case, I don't know.'

"Don't know what?" Nate walked in on the conversation, a cup of coffee in his hand.

Sam turned. "Where G is."

"Callen's missing?" Eric asked in confusion as he joined the group. "Did you tell Hetty?"

"We don't know," Kensi corrected him. "Sam just asked where he was."

"That is unusual. Normally he's the first one here," Nate mused.

Raising an eyebrow at the psychologist, Sam replied. "He sleeps here."

Nate shrugged in acknowledgment.

"Maybe he got bored and went somewhere."

"Callen?" Now Kensi raised an eyebrow. "Eric, Callen would be going through case files if he got bored. Not that I've ever seen him bored, come to think of it."

"Well, he couldn't have just vanished into thin air. He's got to be somewhere."

"Who is somewhere, Mr. Hanna?"

Eric jumped. "Oh, uh, Callen," he replied, turning to face the operations manager.

"Where is Mr. Callen?" Hetty asked. "I haven't seen him since last night when he left for a run."

Taking a sip of his drink, Nate spoke up. "Did he come back afterwards?"

"I don't know." Hetty spread her hands to the sides. "He hadn't before I left for the night."

"When was that?" The wheels were turning in Sam's head.

"Let's see." Hetty put a finger to her chin. "Mr. Callen went out about an hour before I did, and I left for home by 19:00."

Kensi's brow furrowed. "So we don't know if he ever came back." It was more of a statement than a question.

"Why wouldn't he come back?" Eric asked. "I mean … Wait. Is he in trouble?"

"G can take care of himself." Even as Sam assured the younger man, his eyes betrayed his doubts.

* * *

At that moment, Callen was having his doubts about the validity of Sam's statement. His head was pounding from whatever drug his captors had given him, making it hard to concentrate on the situation.

He tried to sit up but found it impossible. Shaking his head in an attempt to clear it, he looked down and found he was tied to the chair. A thick strap held each wrist to the metal arms, and matching restraints encircled each of his ankles and the chair legs.

Looking around the room, he saw nothing out of the ordinary that would clue him into where he was. There were no windows on any of the walls, and a staircase along the far wall led up to a closed door.

These observations, added to the pillars at various intervals in the room, brought Callen to the conclusion that he was in someone's basement.

The next step was to get out of the basement and find whoever had ambushed him.

Before he could put any more thought into an escape, the door at the top of the stairs creaked open. A man came into view, his features obscured by a ski mask.

Callen studied him as he descended. From his build and the way he carried himself, the man was definitely one of his attackers from the night before.

The man's belt held a sturdy knife as well as a handgun, and his eyes were cold and hard as he stopped in front of the chair.

He eyed Callen. "Don't worry. I'm not interested in you."

"Oh?" Callen raised an eyebrow. "Because you did knock me out and drag me here."

"You're just a little part of something big." The man turned as more footsteps sounded on the stairs.

A second man, shorter than the first, made his way down to the basement. He was masked as well, and carrying a video camera and tripod.

Callen watched him warily. If a kidnapper came in bearing a video camera, the situation was going to become much worse. They were planning to send a demand to NCIS with video proof to back it up. Well, that or film his demise for some sick reason.

Since the first man had indicated a larger plan, Callen figured the first option was more likely – unless the two went together. In that case, he was so dead … No pun intended.

"Ready?" the cameraman asked.

In reply, the first man grinned at Callen, reaching for his knife.


	3. Chapter 2

A whistle rang across the bullpen. Sam and Kensi looked up to see Eric standing at the top of the stairs.

"You might want to hurry!" he called before disappearing.

Normally one of the agents would have made a crack about the tech operator's method of getting their attention, but his tone made them leap up with no complaint. Both were hoping it had something to do with Callen. They had been poring over intel all morning, but neither had uncovered any clues so far.

Tearing up the stairs, they burst into the room where Eric, Hetty, and Nate were waiting for them.

Nate's mouth was set in a grim line, and Hetty's brow was furrowed in worry. Eric was bent over a computer in the corner, but his face was serious as he turned back to the group.

Clicking a button on his handheld device, he spoke up. "This video was just posted online in one of those free video hosting sites." So saying, he pressed another button and the screen came to life.

Sam and Kensi froze as the beginning static cleared to show a blindfolded Callen tied to a chair. A masked man stood beside him, twirling a utility knife between his fingers.

Clenching his jaw, Sam's quick eye took in the settings. There was nothing out of the ordinary about the room in which the video was taking place. Just bare, dirty walls and a plain concrete floor.

"This message is for Agent Sam Hanna." The man's voice was low and gravelly. "Years ago, you wronged me in the name of justice. Now, I'm here for real justice. I know you army men are trained to be tough, so taking you down alone won't be much fun. I can't very well make you squirm." He paused, looking down at the blade in his hand. "Be at the bar on Ocean View at 2 pm sharp. You'll get more directions then.

"Your friend will stay with me until I get what I want. Any trouble from you, and … Well, let's just say your team will need plenty of evidence bags."

"Don't listen to him, Sam!" Callen spoke up. "I'll be fine."

The man laughed. "Don't listen to him. He was out of it when we brought him here, so he can't give you any clues." Again, he paused, and this time a sly grin crossed his lips. "Of course … You probably don't believe that I'll carry through on my threat. Nothing like a little motivation, I always say."

In one quick motion, he turned and swiped his weapon across Callen's forearm. A surprised yelp of pain came from the prisoner as the agents drew back in surprise.

"Remember. 2 pm," were the last words heard as the screen went black.

* * *

No one spoke for a moment afterwards, as Sam and Kensi absorbed what they had just seen.

Kensi turned to Eric, her eyes flashing. "Where are we on finding who posted this?"

"I was able to trace the IP address, but it's a library in downtown LA. Hundreds of people use it every day. The guy probably used one of the computers there to upload the file."

"Mr. Hanna, does this man seem familiar to you?" Hetty asked.

"I don't know, Hetty." Sam's eyes were filled with anger and concern. "I've taken down a lot of guys in my day."

Hetty nodded.

"We can go to the library and ask around. What time was it uploaded, Eric?" Sam inquired.

"Uh …" Eric checked his screen. "9:43 this morning. Accounting for length, this would have taken up to several minutes, depending on connection speed and file type."

Nate, who had been silent up to this point, joined the discussion. "This guy definitely has some built up anger. Even without seeing his facial expressions, his movements and speech patterns portray a grudge."

"Makes sense," Sam agreed. "He isn't happy just killing me. He has to hurt me first."

"Don't let him get to you, Sam. He's won already if you do," Nate instructed.

"Yeah," Sam nodded again. He and Kensi turned towards the door. "Let us know if anything turns up."

Hetty and Nate watched as the field agents exited.

"Eric," Hetty spoke up, "find him."

* * *

Sam and Kensi strode into the Los Angeles Public Library about half an hour later.

The librarian, a tall thin woman who embodied every stereotypical idea of the profession, glared a them. "Yes?" she inquired in a hurry-up-you're-bothering-me tone.

Kensi showed her badge, as did Sam. "NCIS, ma'am. We need to ask you some questions."

"Oh?" Her expression did not change.

"Have you seen anything suspicious today?" Kensi asked her. "Especially with your computers?"

"No. Why?"

"We have reason to believe one of them has been used in criminal activity around 9:30," Sam answered.

"Criminal activity, agent?" the woman asked, her eyebrows rising slightly. "This is a library."

"Yes, ma'am. Now, do you remember seeing anything suspicious this morning?"

After a slight pause, the librarian shook her head. "I'm really sorry; I don't remember seeing anything." She didn't sound half as sorry as she was trying to sound. "Lots of people come in to use our computers. I really don't pay a lot of attention to who passes through."

"All right, thank you," Kensi handed her a card. "If you think of anything, please give us a call."

As the agents moved away from the desk, Kensi's phone rang.

"No phones in the library!" the librarian scolded, raising her voice slightly. She directed a stern look in Kensi's direction.

Sam chuckled at Kensi's expression, following her as she hurried outside.

"Hello?"

"Kensi!" Eric's voice came through the phone. "I may have something. Across the street from the library, there's an office building."

"Yeah, I see it, Eric. What about it?"

Sam followed her gaze to the multi-level building. "Security cameras."

"Exactly! Can you pull the footage, Eric?"

"Can and did." He sounded proud of himself. "And guess who I found?'

"Well, who?"

"Sorry. I ran every clear profile through facial recognition and got a hit. A guy named Walt Turner. I'm sending the image to your phones right now."

Covering the mouthpiece, Kensi turned to Sam. "Check your phone."

"He's a drug dealer with ties to a couple of large cartels in South America," Eric continued as Kensi leaned over to view the image Sam had pulled up on his cell phone screen. "He's been in jail for the last 10 years for possession and the sale of illegal narcotics. Sam was part of the team that worked to bring him down."

Sam's brow furrowed as he studied the picture.

"He was in the library long enough to load the video. Could be our guy," Eric supplied. "I pulled the footage of when he left. Someone picked him up in a dark blue van."

"Plates?"

"Nada," he told her. "Whoever it was used mud to obscure the numbers."

Kensi sighed. "All right. We'll show the photo around, see if we can get anything on our end." As she ended the call, Sam looked up at her.

"If this guy has G, it can't be good. He's been implicated in multiple homicides – none of which we could prove, and all of which sent multiple probie agents for the nearest trash can."

Giving him a determined smile, Kensi spun towards the doors. "Then we just have to make sure we stop him this time."


	4. Chapter 3

Callen had no way of telling how much time had passed, as there was no clock and no windows to see the lighting outside. And since he had no way of knowing how long he had been unconscious, he couldn't even make a guess as to the time.

He thought it had been about five hours since he had first come to, but even he was starting to have his doubts. There was no way to tell for sure.

He knew that his captors had somehow gotten the video to Sam – his throbbing arm attested to the fact that they really wanted something from his partner. Neither of the thugs had bothered to stop the bleeding, and his shirt sleeve had soaked through in minutes.

Now it was drying, and the fabric stuck to his arm like it had been glued there. He winced when he thought of taking it off later. But he would worry about that once he was out of the basement.

He had no idea what the men could possibly want. Ever since they had pulled off his blindfold and left, Callen had been searching his brain for memories of the man's voice. Nothing had come to mind so far.

He knew one thing for sure, though. Whatever it was could not end well for either Sam or himself. If he could help it, nothing was going to happen to Sam.

Having made up his mind, he concentrated on the restraints again, studying them to see if there was any way at all for him to escape.

* * *

Kensi gave the librarian a smile as they approached the circulation desk for the second time.

"Back again?" the woman asked. She sounded less than pleased.

"Yes, we are." Sam turned his phone so she could see the screen. "Do you recognize him?"

Squinting at the image, the woman adjusted her glasses. "Ah. Yes, I believe I do."

"Was he in here this morning around, say, 9:30?" Kensi clarified.

"Hmm, I don't quite remember the time, but yes, he was in here this morning," she responded, nodding her head. "Real nice fellow, too." Looking between the two, she raised an eyebrow. "He's not in any trouble, is he?"

"Do you know where he may have gone?" Kensi asked. "We need to ask him a few questions."

The librarian shrugged. "I'm really sorry. I don't know. He usually comes in, uses the computers, and leaves."

"Did you notice anything at all? It's really important," Sam said.

"Important, eh? Well, I'm not sure what NCIS wants with him, but I thought I heard him mention something about a bar on Ocean View. Don't know what that means, but I hope it helps."

"Yes, thank you," Sam acknowledged, heading for the doors with Kensi on his heels.

* * *

"You know, Sam will never do anything for you," Callen informed the masked man, who had finally returned.

Shaking his head in an amused gesture, the man busied himself at a computer in the corner, adjusting wires and securing the camera on its stand.

His companion soon joined them. "You do realize you would make life easier if you just used the internet connection here at the house," he grumbled. "I hate making these drops. It's my plan, I should get to decide how it's run."

"Well, it's my house, so it's my tail on the line," the first man shot back. "I don't want to run the risk of the tech geeks at NCIS tracing my internet connection. If you wanted to do it your way, you should have used your place."

"You know I don't have one yet. Not one that could be used for this, anyway. An apartment is not conducive to this sort of job."

"Then shut your mouth and quit complaining. We have work to do."

* * *

When Sam entered the designated bar at two that afternoon, he was ready. Ready for the games to end, ready to find his friend, ready to catch Turner.

He scanned the entire establishment for a sign of the felon, but found nothing.

"See anything?" Kensi's voice in his ear asked. She had come along for backup, arriving earlier than he had, and was now occupying a table in the corner.

"Nothing." Sam walked casually to the counter, forcing himself to act as if he hadn't a care in the world.

"What can I get you?" the burly man behind the counter asked.

Sam gave him a shrug. "I was actually supposed to meet a friend here. Have you seen him?" He showed the man his phone, which had Turner's picture pulled up.

"Oh yeah …" the man mused. "Yeah, he said a guy would come asking for him. You're Sam, right?"

"That's me," Sam chuckled.

"Well, let me get it. Hang on just a minute." The man's hand disappeared under the bar.

Sam tensed, but relaxed when the man extended a silver disc to him. "Did he say anything about where he was going? It's kind of important that I find him."

The other man shook his head. "Nope. He came in, had a drink, gave me this, and left. His shirt smelled a little musty, like he'd been in a basement. Otherwise, sorry, can't help you."

He could tell the man was telling the truth, so Sam nodded his thanks and left. Kensi joined him a few moments later.

Sam showed her the disc, labeled SAM HANNA. "Let's take a look at this. Hopefully we'll get a clue to where they are."


	5. Chapter 4

Sam inserted the disc with nervousness gnawing at his stomach, though he did his best to hide it. There was no telling what Turner had recorded. The man had the stability of Jello.

"Hello again, Agent Hanna. Good to see you're following directions," The man's voice came through as the static cleared. He had again blindfolded Callen, leaving him tied to the chair.

Sam's jaw tightened at the dark discoloration of his partner's sleeve. Turner hadn't even bothered to stop the bleeding from the last time.

"Yes, I know you're eager to do what you must to get him," he gestured to Callen, "back safely. Here's what –"

Callen cut him off. "Sam. Don't listen to him. I'll be fine. You have to catch –"

Now it was Callen's turn to be cut off, as Turner swiveled around and buried a fist in his gut. Those watching winced as Turner hit Callen again, causing him to double over, retching.

Turner dusted off his hands as if he had simply gotten some dirt on them. "So sorry. I really would have rathered not do that."

"Right," Sam scoffed.

"Now, as I was saying, here's what I want you to do. In the Williams Street parking garage, there will be a car waiting for you. If you go alone and make no trouble, you'll get your next instructions. Otherwise, this will happen about six inches to his right."

Before anyone could process what he meant by that, Turner pulled a knife from his belt, plunging it into Callen's left arm in one smooth motion.

Not knowing it was coming, Callen couldn't help the scream of pain that tore past his throat as the blade entered just above his elbow.

"Mm, wow," Turner commented, shaking his head as he studied the glistening edge of the knife. "I hear losing too much blood is bad for your health … Someone might want to see that he gets medical help. Your deadline is four o'clock."

* * *

The pain had grown steadily worse in the hour since his captor had given Sam more "motivation". Even though the man had removed the weapon from his arm, the pain hadn't abated. If anything, it had intensified, a dull ache snaking its way up his arm, along his shoulder blades and spine.

The wet blood made itself known as it trickled down his left arm, causing a plopping sound as it hit the cement floor around his chair. In the silence, it sounded ten times louder than it really was.

_Plop. Plop. Plip. Plop._

The constant noise reverberated through his mind over and over, reminding him of the urgency of getting out before he lost too much blood to do anything effectively.

He shut his eyes, trying to ignore it, trying to find a way out. If only he had a way to get out of his restraints, but they were firmly knotted, and he couldn't reach one arm to the other.

His vision starting to cloud from the blood loss, Callen struggled to stay alert. It was no use. The dizziness won, and his head dropped to his chest.

* * *

Eric took the stairs two at a time, nearly flying on his way to find Sam and Kensi. They looked up as he approached, standing as they caught sight of the expression on his face.

"Did you find him?" Kensi demanded.

"No, but I found something that might help us find him."

Kensi raised her eyebrows in a "well, where is he?" look.

"Oh, sorry. I was, uh, scanning for more footage of either Turner or the van on various security camera feeds and found this." He pressed a few keys on the device in his hands and the large screen near the desks came to life.

It was the image of a restaurant's exterior, various cars and trucks occupying the parking lot. Eric zoomed in on a dark van in one of the parking spots, its back end covered in mud.

"This is the same type of van that picked Turner up from the library," Eric informed them.

"And there's a good chance it's the same van," Sam commented, studying it.

"There can't be that many muddy, dark vans in Los Angeles," Kensi remarked. "Let's go check it out."

Sam nodded. "Right behind you."

Ten minutes later, they pulled up to the restaurant, scanning the lot for the van. Sam spotted it still in the place it had been in the video.

"He's still here," he commented, looking around. "Now we just wait for the driver to show."

"I'll go see if I can get a plate number for Eric," Kensi said, unsnapping her seatbelt. "Maybe he can tell us something about the owner."

"All right," Sam acknowledged. "Be careful."

"I will." She opened the passenger door and stepped out, making her way to the dark vehicle a few yards away.

After a glance around to make sure no one was paying too much attention, she casually strolled over to get a look at the plates, pulling out her phone as she did.

She gave Eric the plate numbers, then turned back to rejoin Sam.

"Well, I have good news and bad news," Eric told her. "The bad news is that I ran the plates and they came back stolen. The good news –"

"Is that we can still arrest him for possession of stolen property and find out," Kensi finished for him. Thanks, Eric." She ended the call and turned to Sam. "Now we just have to wait until this guy comes out."

They didn't have to wait very long. The building's doors swung open, and a man emerged. He sported a mess of blonde hair and several days' worth of stubble. His hands were occupied with carryout bags, and he fumbled in his pocket for his keys as he approached the van.

Both agents swung open their doors and approached the man. He looked up and, seeing them purposefully striding towards him, stopped in his tracks. Before they could react, he had hurled the food at them and taken off in the other direction.

They gave chase, splitting up in order to head the man off. Kensi weaved through the cars behind the fugitive, following him as he leapt over various vehicles, both of them nearly plowing down several pedestrians.

Suddenly, Sam emerged from behind a truck ahead of them, causing the man to come to a screeching halt. Sam was on him in an instant, cuffing his hands as Kensi came up.

The crowd of onlookers began dispersing as the agents led the man to their vehicle, wandering off once the excitement was over.


	6. Chapter 5

Sam threw open the door to the interrogation room. The man they had apprehended, Philip Garrison, was sitting at the table in the middle of the space, his head hanging downward.

He knew the others thought going to the garage would be dangerous, especially since they couldn't cover it as easily as they had covered the bar. To be honest, he knew it was dangerous.

But he also knew he couldn't leave his friend in Turner's hands. If he didn't get anything out of Garrison soon, he would be heading to the garage, regardless of any complaints.

"Walt Turner," Sam stated, tossing a file down on the table. "What's your connection?"

Garrison looked up. "I don't know what you're talkin' about."

"Oh yes you do. He was released from jail two months ago. We've got security footage of you picking him up in your van." Sam opened the file and placed an image in front of Garrison. "Where are you two keeping my partner?"

"Your partner?" the man scoffed. "I wouldn't know."

Sam slammed his fist on the table, making Garrison jump. "We have evidence that you and Turner have a long history. Adding that to the footage we have of him getting into your van, and we can charge you with accessory to kidnapping – at the least."

"Accessory to what?" the man's face paled slightly. "I didn't kidnap anyone!"

"No. That's what accessory means. And it's still against the law."

A look of hesitation crossed Garrison's features before he hardened them again. "I don't know anything about your partner."

"Look," Sam got in his face, "my partner is being held captive in a basement by Turner. I have video footage to prove it. If you tell me where he is right now, you'll get off a lot easier. If not," he shrugged, "you can look forward to a long time behind bars."

The man's mouth twitched. "Like I said, I'm not telling you anything. I haven't seen Turner in years."

"Then why was Turner getting into your van this morning? You know we'll find out one way or another."

"That … wasn't mine."

Sam noticed the slight pause in his sentence. "You sure about that?"

"Yes."

"So you're okay with going to jail for Turner's crime?"

"Turner said –" Garrison stopped as he realized he had just given away the fact he had been attempting to conceal.

"So you are helping him."

"I want my lawyer," Garrison stated, looking straight ahead.

"All right, fine. Those are your rights." Sam stepped back from the table and opened the door. "Enjoy jail."

Nate looked up as Sam joined him and Kensi in front of the monitors. "Nice work. He knows more than he's letting on."

"Yeah," Sam nodded. "We have more than enough probable cause to investigate Garrison's house."

"Eric pulled Garrison's records," Kensi informed them. "Looks like he owns a place right outside of town. And it has a basement."

"Sounds like it could be our place. Let's go get our partner back." Sam headed for the exit.

* * *

Garrison's house was located in a quiet area on the outskirts of Los Angeles. It was situated on a large property with no neighbors in the close vicinity. Definitely the perfect place for two criminals to hide out.

As Sam and Kensi pulled up, they noticed the front door was ajar. Sam shut off the car.

"You think he's going somewhere?"

"Maybe he found out we picked up Garrison," Sam replied.

Both drew their guns, holding them at the ready as they hurried up the driveway.

At that moment, Turner came onto the porch, a duffel bag slung across his back. He had locked the door behind himself and turned to walk to his vehicle when he noticed the agents approaching.

"Walt Turner?" Kensi called.

Hearing his name, he turned and bolted around the side of the house. The agents were after him in an instant.

The man was fast but not fast enough. He had made it halfway across the back lawn when he suddenly drew a gun and spun around, firing multiple rounds at Sam and Kensi.

They drew their weapons as well, ducking to avoid the bullets. Sam squeezed off a well-aimed shot that knocked Turner backwards onto the grass.

"What was that?" Nate asked worriedly through their earpieces.

"We're fine," Kensi told him. "Turner took some shots at us."

"Is he …?"

"He's gone," Sam remarked from where he was checking the man's pulse. "Now let's go see why he was running."

Kensi nodded and circled to the front of the house, keeping her gun drawn just in case someone else was inside. She stopped beside the open front door, waiting for Sam before busting in.

Sam crept towards the back of the house, making sure to stay below the sightline of the windows. Pulling up beside the door, he checked to make sure his gun was loaded. "You ready, Kensi?"

"Ready," she replied over the comm. unit.

"Okay, guys," Eric instructed. "Once you're in, it's pretty much a straight shot to the basement. It's through a door in the kitchen, to the right of the stove."

"All right," Sam acknowledged. "On my count. One …"

The agents tensed in anticipation.

"… Two …"

They reached for the door handles.

"… Three!"

At that, they threw them open, busting in with their weapons at the ready. Shouts of "Clear!" echoed through the stillness as they made their way from room to room.

Sam kept hoping Callen would hear their calls and let them know where he was, but there was nothing to be heard.

"Sam," Kensi's voice came through again, "you might want to see this."

The other agent came running. "What is it?"

In answer, Kensi pointed at the door. Various wires ran from both the frame and the door itself to a small device stuck to the middle of the door.

The digital face of the device read 00:01:49 and was steadily working downward.


	7. Chapter 6

"Uh, Eric, we have a problem."

"What's going on, Sam?" he asked.

"The door's wired," Sam told him, inspecting the setup. "This place will be gone in less than two minutes."

"Okay … Can you deactivate it?"

"I'm not sure." Sam shook his head.

"Do we even know Callen's down there?" Nate wanted to know.

"Well, we caught Turner on the lawn and the door to the basement is connected to enough explosives to turn the entire property into a smoking crater," Kensi commented. "I think it's safe to say he's there."

"Right."

Time seemed to stretch on forever as Sam studied the device. Finally, he looked up at Kensi. "I think I got this."

"You sure?" Eric asked. "Don't take any unnecessary risks with it."

"This whole thing is a risk, but I wouldn't call it unnecessary," Kensi interjected.

Reaching for two of the wires, Sam bit his lip in thought. "Okay." He took a deep breath. "Here we go."

Everyone tensed as he said the words, expecting a fireball at any moment.

Thankfully, none appeared. The timer froze on 00:00:34. Kensi and Sam shared a relieved grin, as did Nate and Eric back in the tech room.

The door was locked, but Sam soon had it open. "All right; let's go."

As they descended the stairs, they steeled themselves for what they might find at the bottom.

When the basement came into view, Kensi bit back a gasp. Callen was still strapped to the chair, his left sleeve completely covered in blood. A large portion of it had already dried, but there were still places where it glistened with wetness.

Sam's jaw clenched as he surveyed the scene. Blood covered the ground around the chair; he could trace the path it had followed to land beside the legs.

Callen wasn't responsive. In fact, on first glance, Sam was sure his partner was dead. His eyes were closed, his head was slumped against his chest, and his face was pale.

The sight sent Sam back to that afternoon over a year before, when he thought he had lost his friend to a drive-by. He found himself reliving the same emotions he had felt that day when he held the limp Callen in his arms, when he thought for sure their days of working together were over.

Putting all that aside, Sam closed the space between himself and the chair. He reached out to find a pulse and was relieved to feel it under his fingers, faint though it was.

"Guys …" Eric's voice came through their earpieces.

Kensi had nearly forgotten he was there. "Sorry, Eric." She let out a sigh of relief when she saw the look on Sam's face and noticed the slight rise and fall of Callen's chest under the dirty brown jacket. "Get an ambulance. We found Callen."

"How is he?" Nate asked as Eric began calling for the emergency vehicle.

Watching as Sam pulled out his knife and began sawing away at the restraints, Kensi pushed a strand of hair from her face. "He's breathing."

* * *

Sam's thoughts were whirling as he worked to free his friend. He tried to keep himself busy, to avoid thinking too hard about what Turner had done to G, but he couldn't help it.

He couldn't stop the anger welling up inside him. Even in his line of work, it still hurt him that human beings could do such things to each other, especially when the others had done nothing to them.

As Sam cut the last binding, Callen slumped forward, no longer held in the upright position. Sam caught him as he fell, lowering him to the ground with help from Kensi.

The sound of sirens made their way down the stairs to the agents' ears, and she stood.

"I'll go show them where he is."

Nodding in response, Sam turned back to Callen. His anger morphed into guilt, and he rubbed his forehead with the back of his wrist.

If they had just been quicker in finding Turner, the situation might never have happened. They wouldn't be waiting on paramedics because of a knife-wielding psychopath.

For that matter, if he hadn't left work early the night before, the situation would definitely have never happened. Callen had only gone on a jog because no one else was around to do anything with him. And even if he had, Sam would have been with him, and Turner would never have been able to succeed in the kidnapping.

Footsteps creaked overhead, announcing that help was on its way down. They echoed through the room as Kensi led the EMTs to where Sam knelt beside Callen.

"Excuse me, sir, we'll need you to move aside," the young blonde woman told Sam, taking her place across from him.

"Oh, sure." He stood and backed up to stand beside Kensi. The two of them watched as the woman's partner joined her.

"How is he?" Sam asked worriedly.

"We can't say anything for sure." The man barely looked up as he continued to work over the unresponsive agent. "He's lost a lot of blood and will need a transfusion, but it looks like we got here in time."

This brought a sigh of relief from the others. It wasn't over yet, but things were looking quite a bit better than they had five minutes before.

* * *

"Kensi!"

She looked up from her seat on the plastic waiting room chair to see Eric skidding around the corner. He was followed closely by Nate and Hetty; all three of them had tense looks on their faces.

"Any news?"

"What did the doctors say?"

"How is Mr. Callen?"

Kensi leaned back a little at the barrage of questions directed her way. "Slow down!" She put up her palms in defense. "I haven't heard anything yet."

"Where's Sam?" Eric asked, looking around.

"I sent him to the cafeteria to get some coffee. He's going insane."

Hetty took a seat beside the younger woman. "As are we all." She patted her arm. "You quite possibly saved his life. Don't beat yourself up over his situation."

"But I could have helped end it sooner! If I had just worked a little harder …"

"Kensi, stop," Nate interjected. "We all did our best to find Callen."

Eric joined the conversation. "Like Hetty said, you did find him."

"What if it wasn't soon enough, Eric? What if the transfusion isn't enough, and we lose him?" Getting to her feet, she began pacing. "I can't lose another team member!" She bit her lip in an attempt to keep her feelings inside.

Not quite sure what to do, Nate stood and moved to her side. He put a hand on her arm and sat her in the closest chair. He leaned forward to look her in the eye. "Kensi, listen to me. You gave this all you had. You found Callen. He's getting the best care he could receive. It's out of your hands, so quit worrying."

Nodding, she wrapped her arms around herself. She closed her eyes and sighed. "Tell me he'll be all right."

Just then, Sam joined the group. He nodded to the newcomers. "Any news?"

"Not yet," Hetty told him.

As if in answer to the question, a doctor entered. "Family of G. Callen?"

Without hesitation, they all leapt to their feet, eager for news. Because it wasn't by blood, but G. Callen was certainly family.


	8. Epilogue

Callen leaned back on the pillows, a small smile playing on his lips. His gaze took in the others of his team, sprawled in various positions around the room.

It was nearly midnight, and they had all insisted on staying, waving badges at the nurses and citing the need for protection whenever any of the staff asked them to leave.

Sam's chair sat to the right of the bed, its occupant's mouth hanging open with slight snores drifting from him. The chair on the other side held Hetty, her head bobbing as she attempted to stay awake to keep a watchful eye on the patient. The other three held similar positions across from the bed.

There was no doubt in Callen's mind that they had worked themselves to the bone trying to find him that day. Their loyalty made him proud to know them.

He rubbed his arm absently. It would take more than that to keep him down. As soon as the doctors cleared him to leave, he would be back at work.

That decided, he leaned the bed back a little and closed his eyes, letting the pain meds take over. He knew they would still be there when he awoke, and that was all he needed.


End file.
